


Peanut Butter Ice Cream

by R3noraDrake



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Hunk does too, Mutual Pining, Pidge is a little troll, Shiro pops in for a little bit, could be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R3noraDrake/pseuds/R3noraDrake
Summary: “Do you want some?”Lance’s head shot back up and for the second time that night he gaped at her. “What?”“I said, do you want some?” Pidge repeated impatiently, her cheeks painted pink in the laptop light.Lance eyed her wearily, getting over his initial shock. “What’s the catch?” he asked.----In which Lance has insomnia, and Pidge does too, so what do they do? Be themselves, that's what. Cue messes and shenanigans they can only get themselves into. And poor Shiro doesn't get any sleep.





	Peanut Butter Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yutamatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutamatic/gifts).



> And here I am, writing romance, again. Dedicated to my sister (again), who gave me this lovely idea. Enjoy!

Insomnia.

 _Dios_ , did Lance _hate_ that word.

Lance groaned and rolled over in his bed, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes. The relaxing music playing through his -- _Pidge’s_ \-- headphones did nothing to lull him to sleep. The lights in his room were dimmed, a mock effort to create a ‘nighttime’ in the motionless throes of space. He glanced at the time. 0200 varga. He’d been trying to sleep for four varga. _Four varga_.

His body was crying in exhaustion, his muscles overexerted and begging for rest, but he didn’t even feel the least bit sleepy.

_I give up._

Throwing the headphones off and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Lance got up with a loud crack of his back. He winced. Okay, that hurt. He stretched a little bit, wiggling out his limbs despite their aching protests.

He debated briefly whether or not he should finish Level 46 on Killbot Phantasm I, but quickly decided against it. He only played with Pidge, and he wasn’t about to kill the final boss without her (he actually wasn’t sure if he _could_ beat the final boss without her, but like quiznak he was going to admit _that_ ).

Instead, Lance slipped on his slippers to protect them from the cold, metal floor and padded out into the hallway.

The hallway was silent, lights dimmed to further add to the ‘nighttime’ aura. They wouldn’t blink fully back on for another three varga or so, when Shiro got up. Shiro. Should he see if he was awake?

Lance shook his head, still standing outside of his door in the hallway. No, he shouldn’t. Shiro could be sleeping, _Dios_ knew he needed it. And even if he was awake, Lance shouldn’t disturb him. Shiro already had enough to worry about, Lance didn’t need to alert him that he was having trouble sleeping too.

Lance stood taller, squaring his shoulders a little. He’ll take a walk. Coran mentioned that helped with insomnia, once. Yeah, he’ll take a walk.

He took a right and started to make his way down the hallway, a little unsure to where he was going. Somehow, his feet made the decision for him, and he stopped right in front of the doors to the lounge.

Lance grinned. Two nights before the whole team had had a movie night, the morning after they were all called into battle. He was pretty sure the projector Pidge and Hunk threw together was still set up. Maybe he could find some Altean soap opera movie to watch. Anything to pass the time, really.

The doors slid open and he stepped over the threshold.

He blinked.

“Pidge?”

A mussed mess of brown hair popped up from behind a fort of blankets and pillows. Honey eyes met his, and the eyebrows above them furrowed. “Lance?”

“What are you doing here?” Lance asked, confused. He stepped further into the lounge, the doors sliding closed behind him, leaving the room completely pitch black. Idly, he wondered if Pidge turned the dim lighting off.

The only light in the room was the one coming from Pidge’s fort, shining brightly and reflecting off her glasses.

“Go away.” Pidge said simply and ducked back down. Lance heard the tell-tale tapping of keys begin to fill the air.

“Uh, what the heck, Pidge, it’s like, 0200 varga. You need to sleep.” Lance said, frowning, crossing his arms.

Pidge’s frames flashed as she whipped her head back up to level him with a glare. “You’re one to talk. What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

_“Pidge.”_

_“Lance.”_

Lance groaned, throwing his hands up. “I couldn’t sleep, okay? I was going to watch a movie to pass the time, but it looks like you already beat me to the lounge.”

Pidge scowled and cocked her head to the side. “You have trouble sleeping?”

Lance felt heat rise to his cheeks. He stammered, “Uh, well, _no_... I mean, not really, but lately... yeah.” he admitted with a sigh.

She pursed her lips, deep in thought. “Okay,” she said, scooting across the couch and knocking down the roof and wall of her pillow fort in the process. “You can stay.”

“Uh, what?” Lance gaped. “You’re going to let me watch a movie while you’re-” he waved a hand at her laptop, visible now that the pillows weren’t blocking it, “-doing whatever you’re doing?”

“I’m checking over the schematics of our last mission and _yes_ , I am allowing you to watch a movie while I’m working.” she looked at him curiously. “Unless... you want to watch the movie by yourself...?”

“No! Nope, definitely don’t want that.” Lance said quickly.

Lance made his way over to her and plopped down onto the cushions. She yanked the pillows she’d made her pillow fort with back with a hiss of “mine” and Lance wasn’t about to get his head torn off so he grabbed a few more from the other side of the couch.

She was already typing away on her keyboard, a flurry of numbers with Altean and Galra letters mixed in, but when he settled himself down next to her, she stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you going to start a movie?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...” Lance coughed awkwardly, glancing at the turned-off projector across the room as he did. “Actually, can I just hang out here for a while? Don’t really feel like listening to a bunch of Alteans squabbling with each other.”

Pidge laughed. “I can get behind that. Don’t know how Coran gets a kick out of those.” she returned to her typing.

“What are you working on?” Lance asked, genuinely curious, leaning over and resting his chin on her shoulder to watch as symbols he didn’t understand fly across the screen.

Pidge frowned. “I already told you. Schematics.”

“Those don’t look like schematics.”

Pidge pulled away from him. “And how would you know that?” her tone was teasing.

Lance grinned. “Hey, it’s not all just air up here.” he knocked two knuckles to the side of his head. “I’m gifted with intelligence, I just choose not to unwrap it.”

“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.” Pidge said, shoving him away playfully, utterly failing to stifle her giggles and said without heat, “That was the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”

Lance grinned harder, glad to make her laugh. “I don’t take lessons, if you’re wondering. These jokes are all natural, baby.”

Pidge buried her face in her hands and groaned, shaking her head and grinning just as hard. “Stop. I need to work. You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, so I’m distracting to you, Pidgey?” Lance teased, poking her in the side.

Pidge shrieked, jerking away. “ _Stop_ , Lance, or I’m going to kick you out.”

Lance laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But you need to tell me what you’re working on if it’s so important you can’t even humor your gaming buddy.” Just as Pidge opened her mouth, he added, “Oh, and in English please. I don’t understand all your tech-y mumbo jumbo.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but obliged. “I’m going over the data that I collected last mission to see if I can glean anything off it. Communication base locations, coordinates, wormhole history, security footage, prison logs...” she trailed off on the last part.

Lance placed a hand on her shoulder, sensing the dip in her mood. “You’ll find them, Pidge.” he said firmly. She needed to believe him. Pidge could do anything if she set her mind to it.

She smiled weakly at him. “I know.” she whispered, then shook her head, as if she needed to clear it. “Anyways, I have a question for you,” she reached up to tap his cheek. “No face mask?”

Lance chuckled, reaching up to touch his face subconsciously. “Nah, not tonight. Was too tired and wanted to go straight to sleep after the mission but... well, obviously that didn’t happen because here I am.” he spread his hands in a ‘look, I’m here’ motion.

He sighed, tilting his head up and letting it rest on the couch’s backrest. “Insomnia sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Pidge muttered.

Lance turned his head. “You’ve got insomnia too?”

“Don’t we all?” Pidge shot back.

Lance laughed, trying to hide his wince. “Ha, probably. Our sleep schedules are already messed up enough without the sun, don’t need our brains to prevent us from sleeping either.”

Pidge hummed and leaned into his side, pulling her laptop over so it rested on her knees. He threw his arm around her. The only sound that filled the room was Pidge’s fingers rapidly pounding out some algorithm or another.

Then her typing ceased. “Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed.

Lance startled from his sorta-half-asleep-not-really trance, jerking his head up and looking around. “What, what?” he asked.

Pidge turned her head towards him, her eyes shining. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” she said, patting his hand down from where it was instinctively reaching for his thigh. “I just remembered, I have peanut butter! Well, it’s not _really_ peanut butter, because it’s not actually made from _peanuts_ , but Hunk found something similar a planet back and I’ve been saving it for a while now and-”

“Okay, Pidge, breathe.” Lance commanded, resting his hands on her shoulders and giving her a little shake.

Pidge clamped her mouth shut. “I have peanut butter.” she said simply after taking multiple gulps of air.

“And let me guess, you want to eat it.” Lance said matter-of-factly.

Pidge shot him a look. “Uh, duh? What else would you do with peanut butter?”

“Get gum out of hair, soothe bee stings, put it in bird feed, my mamá had multiple uses for _everything_.” Lance explained.

Pidge stared at him. “Uh, okay, well I’m pretty sure we don’t have gum, bees, _or_ birds here, so of course I’m going to _eat_ it.”

Lance huffed and let his head drop back down on the cushions. “Fair point.”

“Do you want some?”

Lance’s head shot back up and for the second time that night he gaped at her. “What?”

“I said, do you want some?” Pidge repeated impatiently, her cheeks painted pink in the laptop light.

Lance eyed her wearily, getting over his initial shock. “What’s the catch?” he asked.

“Nothing, I swear.”

“ _Nothing_.”

“I swear up and down that I’m up to nothing.”

They had a half-hearted staring contest, which Lance forfeited a few ticks later in favor of drawing back his arm from around her shoulders and rubbing his eyes. “Okay, fine, go ahead and get it then.”

She was back a dobash later, flicking the lights on as she came through the door, a tin container of the so-called “peanut butter” in her hands. She plopped down next to him again.

“Sleepy?” her tone was light.

Lance cracked an eye open at her. “Tired,” he corrected. “There’s a difference, Pidge.” He prodded her shoulder, squinting at the harsh light illuminating the room. “Why’d you turn on the lights?”

Instead of answering, she popped open the tin lid and slid it off, revealing a sort of paste that was _pink_ rather than the caramel-brown characteristic to peanut butter Lance was expecting. Then again, it was alien, and Pidge said it was peanut butter, so who knows?

She offered him a spork, and he took it, sitting up straight and blinking. “Whoa, your hands are cold.” he commented.

Pidge shrugged, hefting her own spork. “Hunk recommended to keep it refrigerated, and it’s in a tin container.”

“So, it’s ice cream.”

“No, it’s peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter ice cream.”

She lifted an expectant eyebrow at him. “How about you try it to find out?”

Lance frowned, prodding at the pink with his spork cautiously. “Are you _sure_ you didn’t poison this?”

Pidge rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I _swore_ , Lance.”

“You swore up and down, and there’s no _up_ and _down_ in space, so basically, you swore on nothing.” Lance said, holding up a finger.

Pidge threw her arms up. “Fine! I, Katie Pidge Holt, solemnly swear that I am _not_ trying to poison you! Besides,” she indicated to the tin. “I’m going to eat from the same container as you, and what kind of poisoner would I be if I ate my own poison?”

“A good one, that’s what.” Lance quipped automatically. Then he paused. “Wait, what?”

Pidge groaned. “Now what?”

“You’re eating from this too?” Lance exclaimed, gesturing at the tin container between them.

Pidge gave him a inquisitive look. “Yes...?” she sounded uncertain.

“But...but...” Lance stammered, already feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. He and Pidge, _sharing?_ How could she offer that so casually without even batting an eye? Lance already felt like he was burning up.

“ _What?_ ” Pidge snapped. “God, Lance, if you didn’t want to eat it, you could’ve just said so!” she reached for the tin container, about to pull it away.

“Wait, stop!” Lance yelped, jerking out of his shock and grabbing her hand and yanking it away. Her fingers were still cold. “I want to eat it, here, see?”

He scooped up a large glob of the pink peanut butter ice cream and promptly shoved it into his mouth. Pidge stilled in front of him, leaning forward in anticipation. Lance wondered why.

A tick later, he knew.

Lance gagged, hand coming up to cover his mouth as bile rose up from his throat and tears welled in his eyes. _Holy quiznak_ , it was _disgusting_.

Pidge’s bellows of laughter were all he could hear and a blanket was kicked up in his face as she flailed about. “ _Oh my God_ , you actually fell for it!” she cried, real tears springing from her eyes.

If Lance could growl he would, but he was currently occupied with _not throwing up all over the couch_ , and he really didn’t want to explain this mess to Coran, Allura, or Shiro in the morning. Finally, he managed to swallow the “peanut butter ice cream” down, grimacing at the taste and only making Pidge laugh even harder.

“ _You little gremlin!_ ” He accused, pouncing on her. She screeched, kicking away, screaming, “Lance, no, my laptop!” and a bunch of other excuses Lance wasn’t having.

He pinned her down on the floor near the couch, blankets and pillows and her fallen pillow fort surrounding them as she squirmed and yelled and _bit_.

Lance yelped, jerking his hand away as she slipped out of his grip and across the room. “You are so getting it!” he shouted, reaching over for the nearest thing to throw -- a pillow, not surprisingly -- and flung it at her.

Pidge managed to dodge it in time, but they didn’t call him sharpshooter for nothing. A smaller pillow smacked her square in the face (her glasses thankfully having been slipped off before the fight) and she stumbled, dazed for a tick, before flashing a shark-like grin at him.

“Oh, you’re on!” she yelled.

“Bring it!” Lance challenged.

The whole lounge was completely torn apart by their battle -- pillows flying everywhere, blankets pulled up as shields, all the while full of laughter and screaming and empty threats.

That was, until Shiro walked through the door. “Okay, what in the loving universe is-” he received a pillow to the face.

In Lance’s defense, Pidge was standing right in front of the door, and in hindsight, that was probably her _quiznaking plan_ , but too late to go back now. Feeling some sort of weird deja vu, Lance raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, Shiro. Wasn’t aiming for you, I was aiming for a _certain troll,_ ” Lance sent a glare over to Pidge, who stuck her tongue out at him.

Shiro didn’t seem phased. All he did was sigh tiredly and cover his eyes with his prosthetic hand. “Why are you guys having a _pillow fight_ at 0300 varga?” he groaned.

Lance felt sorry for him. “We’ll clean it up.” he offered, avoiding the question.

Shiro removed his hand and blinked at them, before surveying the room, sighing again, and then nodding. “Please do.”

“Yes, sir!” Lance gave a sloppy salute, grinning.

“We got it, Shiro.” Pidge said, mimicking Lance and saluting.

Shiro nodded again, and Lance had a feeling he probably wasn’t all there at the moment, before stepping out of the lounge and the door slid shut.

“We’re not finished.” Lance declared immediately as he got up from his crouch, gathering his pillow ammo in his arms.

“I was just getting started.” Pidge said, smirking as she deposited her own ammo back onto the couch. She whirled on him. “Whoever can beat the final boss of Level 46 on Killbot Phantasm wins.” she held out her hand.

Lance grinned and took it, shaking. Her fingers weren’t cold anymore. “Well, I already know who the winner is.”

“That’s right, _me_.”

“In your dreams.”

“I’m making it reality.”

“Yeah, right.”

She did in fact, make it reality.

Hunk found them the next morning, sitting up on the floor and sleeping at the foot of Lance’s bed, the screen flashing “You Win!” continuously as Lance drooled on Pidge’s shoulder and Pidge curled up against him, both sound asleep and breathing softly. Grinning, Hunk threw a blanket over them, whispered them a good morning, and slipped out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
